There exists a class of people for whom the word barbecue doesn't immediately conjure up images of blackened, juicy brisket. If you're anywhere near Charleston, South Carolina, the mind might wander to pork, pulled, if you're lucky, straight from the whole hog, and served with a side of the pig's own deep-fried skin. If you're in Kansas City and its environs, you might be mulling sauce, sweet and tangy, best mopped over tender ribs.

But in Oregon, where there isn't a singular barbecue culture so much as a mish-mash of transplant styles -- Louisiana, Texas and both Carolinas all present and accounted for -- brisket remains the best barometer of barbecue quality.

Brisket, a cut from the hard-worked pectoral muscles in a cow's chest, is notoriously fickle, best treated by a slow-and-low smoke bath. At its best, the meat develops a vibrant pink smoke ring and a mahogany crust, called the bark, while the inside remains moist and tender, a pauper's primal turned into a king-worthy cut. Barbecue aficionados sometimes refer to the burnt ends, the fatty, charred end bits traditionally made from the brisket's point, as "meat candy" -- if you've had great brisket, you'll understand.

View full sizeThe dining room at Reverend's BBQ, with an oversized rectangular bar and a flat-screen TV.Samantha Bakall, The Oregonian

There are a dozen ways the process can go wrong, from the temperature in the smoker to the cooking time to the direction the meat is sliced, all with the potential to leave the brisket dry or tough. Sauce it as much as you want -- a brisket's flaws are harder to hide then a shaky Brazilian midfielder.

At Reverend's, the brisket can be ordered in a sandwich, by the pound or on a plate. The latter arrives as three thickish slices, lightly sauced with one of Reverend's house sauces, and two sides. On my first visit, one of those slices, more of a triangular wedge, had a crust as tough as cowhide -- a too literal interpretation of bark -- dry meat and rigid connective tissue. It was a jaw workout.

In return visits, the brisket had improved. Ditto for the ribs and chopped pork shoulder, the restaurant's other main meats. But not by enough to make Reverend's worth seeking out.

Reasons for optimism

So-so barbecue is a fact of life in Oregon. The reason Reverend's matters more than most is the same reason it's safe to assume the restaurant will continue to get better with age. Its owners, Ben Dyer, Jason Owens and David Kreifels, have been making Portland a meatier place for a decade, first at Viande Meats and Simpatica Dining Hall, then at Laurelhurst Market, the excellent steakhouse. Dyer is also the force behind Ate-Oh-Ate, the Hawaiian plate lunch spot that has improved steadily after a rocky opening in 2010 (the charred, Korean kalbi-inspired pork ribs are a personal favorite).

Reverend's BBQ

Rating:★

Cuisine and scene: A Sellwood barbecue joint from the crew behind Laurelhurst Market, the streamlined steakhouse.

Recommended: Onion rings, the burnt ends burger, fried chicken, and avoiding the smoked meats until they get the kinks worked out.

Vegetarian friendly? How do you feel about smoked tempeh?

Sound level: Varies depending on time of day, sporting event on TV and number of children present. Can be noisy.

The trio opened Reverend's BBQ in late March after a whirlwind tour of Midwestern and Southern barbecue joints -- Oklahoma Joe's in Kansas City, Kansas was a highlight. The restaurant's dining room, with enough seats for about 75, is dominated by an oversized rectangular bar, which just out toward the door. The primary decoration comes courtesy of an old metal windmill, a "Fried Chicken" sign and several large flat-screen TVs, all tuned to sports.

(The road trip may have informed the restaurant, though there's also a subtle Brittish accent here, with piccalilli relish used here and there, a Pimm's Cup on the cocktail menu and strawberry shortcake for dessert.)

Ignore the barbecue, and Sellwood-Moreland residents already have plenty of reasons to swing by. There's a supremely beefy burger made with burnt ends, gooey pimento cheese and fried onion squiggles like you might find on a green bean casserole, all barely contained by a sesame seed bun. There's a trio of good smoked sausages, including a Portuguese linguiça. And there's even better fried chicken made from a recipe carried over from Viande Meats and Laurelhurst Market -- boneless breast and thighs, juicy inside, crunchy without, that leaves a hint of curry on the tongue.

There's no reason to scrap the apps: Spicy oyster shooters; deviled eggs cradling small chunks of burnt ends and piccalilli, both good. I miss the breaded and fried sweet zucchini pickles, served with reassuring remoulade, which seem to have disappeared. The golden, beer-battered onion rings will more than suffice. Sides are mostly solid, too, especially the mac and cheese topped with crumbled, barbecue-flavored chips, a nod to the potato chip-topped mac at Laurelhurst Market. And the desserts nearly make up for the ho-hum barbecue, particularly the banana pudding, smooth and cool, set with Nilla wafers and whipped cream.

Reverend's on-tap Moscow Mule.Michael Russell, The Oregonian

There's good beer, with about eight taps, including, recently, a Commons saison and a rotating tap chosen by the owner of a nearby bottle shop. There are four cocktails on tap, too, including a decent Moscow Mule poured into a copper cup; the mixed drinks tend to be straightforward and sweet, exactly what you'd expect from a $6 cocktail.

And World Cup fans, especially those with kids, will appreciate Reverend's family-friendly vibe and big TVs tuned to the final match this Sunday.

But at the end of the day, Reverend's BBQ will live and die by those last three letters.

Something for everyone

The restaurant's early struggles get at a bigger issue in Portland barbecue: most local restaurants are still trying to offer something for everyone, often losing their own identity in the process. Even Podnah's, the bench-setting Texas-style barbecue spot, serves pulled pork with a tangy vinegar sauce in the Eastern Carolina style. Ditto for Storrs Smokehouse in Newberg, my pick for the best new barbecue in Oregon this year.

Star rating

The Oregonian uses a star system for its restaurant reviews. Ratings range from zero to four stars, with half stars, and reflect the critic's opinion of the restaurant's food, service and ambience, weighted toward the food. Each star roughly equates to the following:

0 stars = Not recommended

1 star = Satisfactory

2 stars = Good

3 stars = Excellent

4 stars = Extraordinary

Right now, the United States is in the middle of a barbecue sea change, led by two urban locales, one more unlikely than the other. In Austin, the barbecue scene is changing so fast that Top Ten BBQ lists like restaurant critic Mike Sutter's have changed almost completely from the year before. Meanwhile, in New York, fantastic barbecue restaurants such as Fette Sau, BrisketTown and Mighty Quinn's are turning the Big Apple into a legitimate barbecue hot bed, one Flintstones-sized beef rib at a time.

We'll know that Portland's barbecue scene has arrived when new restaurants begin to open with more specialization, whether that's a specific meat, a focus on a regional style or just more of an identity than what we've seen at Reverend's so far.